


Victory Fuck

by okbutjusthisonce



Series: RFU [24]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha Sherlock, Espresso Drinks, Hormonal Alpha/Omega/Everyone, Hormone Spewing, Hormones, John Watson is Crazy Knocked Up, M/M, Morning Sickness, Mpreg, Omega John, Omega Verse, Pregnant John, Victory Sex, naughty omega
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-24 04:43:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2568596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okbutjusthisonce/pseuds/okbutjusthisonce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a SUUUUUUUPER old request...</p><p>+++<br/>asecretcastle said:<br/>Here's a prompt for RFU: I'd like to see /not/ heavily pregnant but hormone spewing John (could be early pregnancy or beginning of heat) engaging in lusty flirting with Sherlock in view of the Yard and/or Mycroft. (Bonus points for BAMF!John and competence kink from Sherlock.) Thanks!<br/>+++</p><p>Sorry it took me like a whole freaking year to fill it... if you're still out there, here it is!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Victory Fuck

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place shortly after John's first pregnancy...  
> I always toy with the idea of writing various vignettes covering the first 13 kidlings coming into existence as it's own series, but dunno if that will ever happen, so they are just getting folded into this one.  
> "enjoy".  
> -ok

"You did _not_ just blush at the mention of John Watson." Donovan scoffed at her co-worker. His pink cheeks (which had been fading) refreshed their colour from sheer embarrassment. Anderson snatched up the cup she offered him.

"Thank you." He said snidely.

"I didn't realise he was your type..."

"Piss off already!"

Sally was about to make another comment when The Freak suddenly stepped between the two of them, grabbed a sugar packet off the table. She visibly bristled, stepped back six inches.

"Well done, you've nearly destroyed all the evidence here with your little coffee break. Five more minutes and you'll have it. " Sherlock said flatly.

"I did a sweep of the entire kitchen and there's no-" Anderson began,

"Shut up. Shut up. Shut up, how many times will you force me to say those words I wonder? I suppose for as long as we are forced to share air, it's not as if you're getting any smarter-"

"Now look here-"

"Sherlock!" John entered the kitchen looking excited. "You won't believe what I've-"

John stopped suddenly as if he'd suddenly been punched. With an odd expression he turned away from them, slapping his hand over his mouth, partially doubling over.

The other three looked at him in alarm.

"Are you alright?" Sally asked.

Sherlock had already made it to John, with two quick strides of his long legs. One hand rested on John's back, the other held his upper arm, supporting him firmly.

"Oh, god, I'm sorry. I'm okay... I was just... It... that smell..." John stood up, shook Sherlock off gently. Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"What's in there?" John asked looking at Donovan's cup.

"A double shot latte?" Sally answered perplexed, "are you sure you're ok? People normally fancy the smell of Italian coffee..."

"If you're ill, you should go home." Whined Anderson. Sally noticed he was blushing again, an odd look of discomfort on his face.

"I'm fine, really. It was just an odd moment of nausea. I have just spent an hour with a couple of corpses, you know. The switch between scents was too much."

“A couple, you say, John?”

John’s face lit up with the rare pleasure of being able to surprise Sherlock on the job.

“There’s a little dog.” he said triumphantly, “A Cairn terrier I think.” Sherlock’s eyes lit up.

“On her lap?”

“What’s left of it.”

“...The auntie and her dog… Melded together over time. Oh, John, that’s good… that’s very good.” Sherlock beamed at John for a moment.

“It’s wonderful to have you back. Finally! Someone who isn't a complete and utter imbecile!” He said, and dashed from the room. Sally opened her mouth to say something unpleasant.

“Brilliant, you’re brilliant.” said Anderson suddenly. He swayed towards John like a crushed out  teenage girl.

“What?” said Sally stunned. John’s smile became even wider.

“Thanks, mate.” He said.

Anderson’s skin turned pink all the way to his ears.

“Sally…” asked John suddenly.

“Yeah?”

“Is there any extra coffee? I could use a pick-me-up…”

“Afraid not. Didn’t the scent of it nearly make you ill a moment ago?”

“It smells really good now. Can I have a sip of yours?”

“I- uh, sure…” Perplexed, she handed John her drink. For a brief second, she felt the brush of his fingers against her own. Anderson blinked rapidly, looked upset.

“That’s really nice!” John said a moment later.

“Oh. Have as much as you like.” Sally studied John as he sipped her latte. It was odd, but for the first time she was noticing how cute he was; the way his lip curled around the cup, the subtle arch of his eyebrows…

“Here. I don’t want to drink it all, it’s yours…” John was offering the coffee back to her, but he was in very close proximity. Sally’s heart pounded as he leaned forward, nearly close enough to kiss. His eyes rolled half shut as he visibly inhaled. Sally gasped as John’s lips brushed her cheek and his breath tickled her as he spoke.

“You smell so nice! What kind of shampoo -”

“FUCK!” Screamed Anderson, stomping out of the room. The two of them stopped, snapping out of the moment.

Now it was John’s turn to blush. His fingers were tangled in her hair. Sally’s hands were rapidly pulling back from his shoulders. The two awkwardly stepped back from one another.

“Um… here’s your coffee…”

“Thanks.”

“I’d better go help Sherlock.”

+++

“...should... be right... here.” said Sherlock. He held the tweezers up to the light. Lestrade looked in awe at the fine fibres the detective had managed to extract. The antique Persian rug had after all, held the last piece of the puzzle.

“Bloody hell, you’ve got good eyes.”

“This will be a perfect match.”

“I don’t doubt it. Congratulations… you’ve done it again.”

“In fact, it is John who should take the credit for this one.”

“Ah, he’s a keeper, Johnny is.”

“What?” said John coming in to the room.

Sherlock stood immediately, eyes blazing.

“We were just singing your praises mate-” Lestrade started,

“Did you kiss her!?!” Sherlock spat.

The room fell silent.

“No… I…”

“But you shared a beverage, you've touched her hair...you've allowed her to touch you...you…you...” Sherlock stood glaring at John, sputtering, nostrils flating, inhaling.

Lestrade cleared his throat.

"Perhaps I could bag that..." He reached cautiously towards the tweezers, but Sherlock moved, thrusting them towards John accusingly.

"Flirting with other alphas is not part of our agreement, John!" He shouted, "it's out of bounds! The only time that's acceptable is when your hormones can be held accountable!"

"Yeah, well I -" John mumbled,

"I forbid you to talk to other alphas, John!" Sherlock was really shouting now, his voice strangely emotional. John's eyes widened then narrowed in sudden defiance. Lestrade looked nervously back and forth between the two.

"You forbid me!" John exclaimed, " _Forbid me?_ To talk to-! Really, you're joking!"

Lestrade tried again to take the tweezers, still pointed at John. Sherlock stepped forward with a strange sound, agressively pushing himself into John's space.

"I'm deadly serious. In fact, I forbid you to even _look_ at them! The next time that Donovan is around, I expect you to keep your head down, eyes averted." His sentiment was punctuated by an angry sneeze, follwed by a sudden laugh from John.

"You're jealous! Irrational-love-mad-alpha-style!" He scoffed.

"I'm not."

Sherlock straightened up, turned abruptly towards Lestrade, who had nearly succeeded in  slipping the tweezers from Sherlock's fingers.

"I'm not being irrational." He said to Greg calmly. The sentence hung between them as a passive, unanswered question, his pale eyes adopting a slight edge of uncharacteristic uncertainty.

"Um," Lestrade said, "could I - just get that bit of vital evidence from you?"

"Hormonal," John insisted.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed and he spun back to John, cranky again.

"Why would I be hormonal?" He demanded. The two stared at each other and a look of understanding broke across Sherlock's face.

"Absurd. It's too soon." Sherlock said.

"It's...not."

"You just had twins. Just. You haven't had a proper heat yet."

"What?" blinked Lestrade.

"Didn't really need to, did I? Not with a horny alpha on me night and day."

"Don't try to pin this on me!" Sherlock snarled. He waved the tweezers round in objection. Lestrade followed their path through space with worried eyes.

"Who else then, you randy bastard? That was you, wasn't it, sticking it in right after we chased down that street fighter? Or ripping off my trousers when we recovered the stolen documents at the V&A? Climbing on top of me while we were literally in the middle of breaking up that omega smuggling ring? I don't recall anyone else's big knot in me!"

"I don't recall being the sole instigator. You make it out as though all I do is fuck yo-"

"Ahem!" Lestrade's objection temporarily brought them back to the room. John looked slightly embarrassed. Sherlock looked... strangely invigorated. They were both flushed.

"This is a crime scene, need I remind you two to keep things professional?" Lestrade said with moderate conviction. He felt himself frown as his bluff was instantly called. John burst into peals of laughter. Sherlock rolled his eyes incredulously.

"With your crew of morons?" Sneered Sherlock,"impossible!"

"That's the best load of bollocks I've heard all day!" Said John, "asking this oversexed nutter to behave himself! He's the definition of uncontrollable..." John had grabbed the waistband of Sherlock's trousers, and was impatiently tugging Sherlock closer by his hips.

"That's true, I do what I like." Sherlock said. To demonstrate, he took John into a crushing bear hug and began to snog him.

"Oi! Oh, c'mon!" Lestrade cried. The two broke apart, John pushing Sherlock away with an excited exhale.

"Q.E.D.!" John cried happily, "we've just solved a case! And now you've gotta have me, you egotistical, horny alpha bastard..."

Sherlock was about to protest when Anderson burst into the room, desperate and haphazardly treading over the evidence.

"John! I - I got you a latte of your own...!" He shoved himself between the two, the steaming cup stopping under John's nose. John's eyes widened in surprise and sudden horror. His skin went a funny colour.

"John?" Asked Sherlock.

John turned and doubled over, vomiting all over the lovely carpet and Greg's feet.

Sherlock dropped the tweezers into Anderson's offending gift. They made a whimsical splashing sound.

"We're done for the day," he said.

+++

John's phone buzzed angrily, as though the content of the incoming texts controlled the strength of the vibration.

He picked it up and scrolled though them.

"Lestrade's quite upset. Can't say that I blame him," he added. He settled back against his end of the bath with a sigh.

"He'll get over it. There's plenty more dog hair in that carpet." Sherlock said. His long legs left his feet resting by John's shoulders. Now he stretched his right one to the side, lazily turning the faucet with his toe. Fresh hot water flowed into the tub.

"Right. Though we did basically destroy a crime scene."

"Morning sickness is something that can't be helped. Not to mention my and the others' reactions to your pheromones. Nor your own. Not your fault."

John gave Sherlock a naughty smile.

"Your fault," he said, "for knocking me up again so quickly."

Sherlock's eyes gleamed.

"Another baby," he said, "already."

"Ben and Martin are going to have company sooner than we thought, love. Well done, you virile alpha bastard," John crooned, "well done."

Sherlock sat up and moved forward so he was on top of John. He pushed his face close, bringing them nose to nose.

"Has it ever occurred to you that you're a naughty, tempting, overly-fertile, irresistible omega?" He half whispered, "Perhaps it's your fault."

John writhed with pleasure as Sherlock grabbed both of them under the water and began to thrust and rub against John's soft belly. Soon it would swell, John would become bigger and bigger until he burst; until he would have no choice but to spread his legs wide open and push, Sherlock would fuck him throughout it all.

They'd always made a rather good team.

The thought sent Sherlock into a frenzy, his alpha self beginning to reawaken with a sense of triumph.

The tap gushed. John moaned. Sherlock growled.

Water sloshed from the tub with thier frantic motion, passion spilling everywhere.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Well, maybe John wasn't so much of a BAMF, but um, that'll come later...  
> -_-
> 
> Sorry, I truly have zero control over these stories...


End file.
